


back to december

by sumaru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, Future Fic, M/M, Oikawa Tooru's Unrelenting Thirst, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumaru/pseuds/sumaru
Summary: Kageyama is a jock with a terrible haircut and Oikawa thirsts.This is probably not a date.





	back to december

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the second [OiKage charity fanbook](http://oikagezine.tumblr.com) which is absolutely (Taylor Swift baby voice) _GORGEOUS_ so please consider supporting it, and also proceeds go to a good cause, and _also_ Miyu drew deer date art and it's a delightful time for everyone involved.
> 
> Thank you to Ellie and Miyu, because they know what I did, and I know what they did.

 

 

 

Oikawa Tooru, rising star of Japan’s national volleyball team and poster boy for FIT’s new limited edition seasonal gum flavour, has been waiting for Kageyama Tobio for _at least_ thirteen minutes.

These are the three things that Oikawa idly notices first:

That the little peak of a stiff shirt collar from the neck of Kageyama’s hoodie means he made the deliberate effort to dress nicely. That the long line of Kageyama’s leg is the kind of awkward off the court that stumbles right into endearing. That there’s a very specific, very particular kind of eagerness in Kageyama’s stride as it eats up the snow-dusted sidewalk separating them. Bratty kouhai past the age of twenty aren’t supposed to move like adorable little deer. There probably has to be a law against that.

Oikawa always notices things. It’s a carefully cultivated talent. It’s earned him his place on the starting lineup. It’s a _curse_. He can’t stop once he starts, in the same way he can’t seem to relax the pinch in his lungs. In the way Kageyama’s in lean dark jeans that grip his thighs instead of the usual headache of safety orange running gear. Kageyama still with a smoothie bottle gripped in one hand and _ugh_ , those old battered Nikes of his even in this weather.

Exactly three girls turn their heads ever so slightly to mark Kageyama passing under the lattice roof outside of the Kintetsu Nara train station, and exactly three girls don’t quite stop to look at the artful set of Oikawa’s brown hair and the way he’s lounging _very_ handsomely against the wall in his tailored peacoat. There _absolutely_ has to be a law against that, too.

The pinch gets worse. It’s starting to feel like excitement, and Oikawa wrinkles his nose at the memory of Iwa-chan laughing himself sick at the word “date”. This is him stepping into the role of good senpai for the sake of the national team. This is just keeping face, and he has an exceedingly nice face with an Aquafresh-sponsored smile to keep, thank you _very_ much.

“It’s terrible manners to keep your senpai waiting, you know.” Oikawa lets his teeth flash white in place of a smile. At least this part is easy. Kageyama isn’t late at all, but Oikawa had been woken up this morning by the sunrise like a spear through the blinds and the absolutely unbearable thought of Kageyama waiting dutifully for him by the park entrance.

It’s always been good personal policy to make Kageyama run a little bit for something, anyway.

Kageyama’s breath comes out in a puff of cold. “How long have you been here, Oikawa-san?” he frowns at the time displayed on the station boards. He keeps a tight nutrition schedule that’s clocked to the hour, a fact Oikawa knows because he’s already long memorised Kageyama’s training regimen. He can see the rebuttal clipped at the edge of Kageyama’s teeth, the way it thins his lips into a familiar line. Everything in Oikawa wants to drag it from Kageyama’s mouth; but it doesn’t come. It just hangs there like static loading the dry winter air between them, itching under the skin as Oikawa grasps for a rhythm that has long since shifted.

And maybe here’s the thing that Oikawa wants to notice least of all: Kageyama at the edge of twenty-four, is not Kageyama at fifteen, is not Kageyama at twelve.

That glower is definitely still there. But somewhere in the hiccup of university years and tryouts and national team training camps, where Oikawa has gone out of his way to both see him and to not see him, Kageyama has grown out of the shadow he had once made for himself. There’s a patience and understanding that seeps into the way Kageyama now holds himself at ease. His jaw looks infuriatingly soft and relaxed nestled against the grey scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, and Oikawa feels his entire life tense up at the sight of it.

They haven’t crossed paths for a good solid five months ( _since Paris, since going back to their different university teams, since the way they had stuttered while defiantly both trying their best_ ) and that time pools all at once into his stomach, heavy, then weightless, then free. Oikawa doesn’t even _know_ why he’s doing this. He had whined to Iwa-chan as he splurged on the tickets for the bullet train that would eventually take him to Nara and its deep hills frosted white with winter and an entire season of standing breathlessly still.

(Iwa-chan had just levelled him the most unimpressed look.)

Oikawa hates how he _does_ know, he knows Kageyama has a soft and easy smile in there somewhere, because he’s seen the curve of it peeking out from under Kageyama’s sweaty bangs when he’s hands on knees, breathing heavy after one of those joint practices that leaves their muscles quaking, long after the sun is gone, the too bright fluorescent gym lights flooding around them like a promise of things to come.

There’s never a smile when he bows his _Thank you, Oikawa-san_ and takes his leave, but Oikawa can feel the tremor of it in Kageyama’s shoulder anyway, learning, learning fast.

“Well, let’s go see these deer of yours, Tobio,” Oikawa continues as he starts walking ahead. It’s barely ten minutes to the park but he’ll be damned if he lets Kageyama catch up for even a second. “And remind me not to buy Nakamura-san a souvenir for showing you those commercials over the holidays.”

The sky is blue, the air smells amazing, and nothing on this godforsaken earth will give him a break as Oikawa is immediately, horrifyingly aware of the way the blue of Kageyama’s eyes deepens in the full sun.

Kageyama at the edge of twenty-four has a haircut that has only gotten uglier. It was recently cropped unfussy and utilitarian, even the sweep of his bangs now short, as if the scissors were also impatiently biting for the spring. There’s a smear of protein shake that sticks to Kageyama’s upper lip, right where the straw gets crushed between Kageyama’s straight white teeth. His face is blank as they make their way toward Nara Park, but the sun moves in gentle shadows across the round softness of his cheek, golden against his winter tan.

Kageyama is gorgeous. It's absolutely offensive. Something curls right inside of Oikawa’s throat, warm like sunrise, suddenly too large and hot to swallow down.

“Did chibi-chan really let you leave the apartment with hair like that?” Oikawa tips his nose so he doesn’t have to look at the way the sunlight cuts itself against Kageyama’s cheekbones. “What if someone wants to take a photo? The world will see how you paid real money to look like this. Your ugliness will live on the internet forever ☆”

Kageyama finishes his protein shake with a wet little noise. It’s not just the sun that shines brightly in Kageyama’s eye. He used to be much more of a goody-two-shoes. “You don’t actually mean that, Oikawa-san.” Little wet slurp, little shift of the shoulders. Kageyama’s eyes don't leave his face. _Don’t you dare size me up like that_ , Oikawa thinks, not for the first time.

Oikawa can probably pinpoint the exact moment he had gotten accustomed to the view of Kageyama’s back, shoulders broad like the spread of wings. But unshakable from it is also the way they had slumped when the whistle had blown wide their dreams in Paris. The summer sun had been golden then, too, lancing through the long windows of the tree-lined pavillon to blur out everything but the broken line of Oikawa’s jump serve that day. The first game of their first Olympics together showed them just how fragile they were under the lights while the whole world held its breath. The memory of a time when he had wanted nothing more than to see Kageyama shattered on the court, rose up as he had stood frozen by the benches, his hand still warm from when he had pressed it to Kageyama’s shoulder as they switched for that last desperate service.

“I mean absolutely everything I say. You should know that by now. Keep up.” Oikawa feels something quake under his ribs; something means to shake him apart. He tries to school his face, and finally sticks a smile on.

The air smells like a thing so achingly, unnameably evergreen and infinite as they pass under the shadow of Kofukuji Temple and into the winter trees, feet leaving a slow path in the new snow. Kageyama is looking at him again, blue eyes wide and much too focused in the dappled light, like there’s something that’s threatening to spill from that ridiculous mouth of his, like he’s trying to read Oikawa like they’re back on the court again, somewhere in between the long distance of Tokyo and Paris and he’s not sure where that someplace lies because people aren’t volleyball. Oikawa watches pleasantly as the criss-cross of sun plays over Kageyama's nose as he struggles.

But Oikawa’s smile flickers as they stop at a stand to buy deer food. Kageyama has grown so tall. He's as tall as Oikawa now. Oikawa has known this for a while, but he still has to will himself not to shift onto his toes to grab that little bit of height over Kageyama as the shopkeeper passes him the deer biscuits, her laughter light and fond at the way Kageyama’s large hands wrap so gently around the thin wafers, excitement deep in his voice as he thanks her.

These are the things that Oikawa fills in that space in between them instead: the new Godzilla movie that opened that Iwa-chan had dragged him to the other week despite the two hours of protest he had logged against it; the neighbour’s little white dog that yaps at him every time he tries to approach it, _Isn’t that rude, Tobio-chan, you’d think it was you who was trying to pet it_ ; the vacation coastline of Okinawa that is nothing but coarse yellow sand, how it sticks painfully in between his toes when he picks carefully across the surf, probably nothing like the golden sands of California at all.

“How would you know what the sand in California is like?” Kageyama finally speaks through Oikawa’s chatter, but his voice is hushed in wonder. He’s been rooted to the same spot for a while now, focused so hard on not moving that he’s practically jittery. The single deer that had been bold enough to approach him nuzzles at his awkwardly cupped hands, trying to lap up the entire deer biscuit in one go.

Oikawa huffs and dumps the rest of his own deer biscuits into Kageyama’s hands. _Terrible. Ridiculous. Adorable._ “This is why you’re always going to lose to me. Never ready for the important things. You’ll probably bring sneakers to wear to the beach and I’ll have to leave you behind because you’re such an embarrassment.”

The winter sun blossoms in gold tendrils over them, a pale mimic of Oikawa's long fingers that had once reached out to rest against the tremor of Kageyama's shoulder. As the deer licks at the last of the crumbs in Kageyama’s hands, Kageyama turns to him, his smile a ridiculous, wriggly little thing that shines like a new promise being made under the green shadows of these December hills so far from home. Oikawa can’t believe he has to share this moment with a deer.

But Oikawa doesn’t stop Kageyama even when he reaches out a deer spit covered hand and gently touches his wrist; without hesitation, leading.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Ellie voice) and then they bang in the deer shed
> 
> [Oikawa's gum commercial](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rk2ClMEoM0). Kageyama probably saw that razor-sharp gum-selling smile and wanted nothing more than to pet the deer and hold Oikawa's hand, and Kageyama Tobio has two hands and an absolute focus that doesn't ever, ever waver.
> 
> This started with [Gorgeous](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EUoe7cf0HYw) on loop but finished with [New Year's Day](https://youtu.be/gEHCXl4J9Qo?t=8s) instead. Forgive it the bumpy ride.


End file.
